Joker's Kitten
by The-Talking-Peanut
Summary: Joker finds a kitten, but instead of killing it he takes it home. Warning: SLASH! Crack, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, yadda yadda yadda. It's for fun.
1. The Find

Alright. For anyone that is reading this, if you're looking for a cute, cracky, fluffy fic, this is that. But only half of it. The other half is a bit graphic, angsty and sad. So, just forewarning you in advance people.

Other than that, I hope you enjoy it and PLEASE comment. I like to know what people liked about it. It makes me know that humans are reading it and not robots.

Oh, and it's also in 8 parts (And maybe plus an epilogue, not sure though yet. Haven't gotten that far on it quite at this time.)

Enjoy ^w^

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"Can't they give a clown a rest?" The Joker laughed tiredly as he continued to run through the dilapidated streets. His body was sending off signals that this was too much and he needed to rest, but he blatantly ignored it as there was no time for such a leisurely maneuver.

Gotham's finest had been chasing him relentlessly for the past week or more and it was starting to take its toll on the clown. They just wouldn't _stop_. It even started to appear that wherever the Joker was going to be that day, he was always greeted with a visit from the nice men in blue with there ever-present--and extremely obnoxious--siren screeching, light flashing cars. _Now if I had one of those, I would make it so much more interesting with just a little modification here and there!_ He mused to himself as he made a flip over a fence in a highly unskilled way when a squad car was catching up on his tail. _Maybe I should just invest in a damn car._ He growled when on the other side of the fence there were two of them coming straight at him. _That's it! I'm getting myself a cop-finding GPS, and I don't care who knows it!_

Joker didn't mind being chased. Hell, bring it on! It was all fun and games for him in the long run. He didn't even particularly care _who_ was chasing him, just so long as they understood that they weren't going to win. No prize for accomplishing this task, and the amateurs always knew to try it once. If, that is to say, they lived through it. But what Joker _didn't_ like, was when the police thought it their right to hound on him every second of the day, without a moments rest. Why were they so upset with him in the first place? He hadn't done anything major for a while, not with them showing up at every location he went to. They didn't give him a chance to let his creative juices flow. So _why_ be so hellbent determined to send him off to the funny farm when in his mind they have no justification for doing so? He's just going to break out again, so why keep trying? Maybe it was because a week ago he had broken out and had defaced the MCU building with slogans and graphic doodles of some of the men who had died by his hand. _Don't take it so seriously boys. I was just trying to be respectful to the dead by making sure you didn't forget them! Honestly, the more I try to help..._

What he _hated_ most of all was when the police harassed him, his favorite 'night rodent' would never come out to play. Now that he was a wanted man by the police as well, Batman didn't want to risk capture when he had more to lose than the Joker did if caught and 'stripped down'. His identity was more important and, okay, fine. Joker could sort of understand that. But to not even try and _make_ any attempt to see him because the now enemy of both of them was always surrounding Joker lately, was getting on his nerves and festering there until he unleashed his rage out on whatever was nearby.

Joker took a sharp turn to the left and into an alleyway. It smelled of rotten garbage that had baked in the sun for too long. His panting was echoing off the walls and was soon drowned out by that familiar siren sound. The Joker skidded to a stop when he met with a solid brick wall at the end. Wonderful. A dead end. He turned around to run back, but the police car was already there. The lights filling up the enclosed space so every object was seen. Joker tried and of course failed to climb the sides of the wall in any attempt to get away. When the vehicle was several feet away, they flooded a spotlight on him so as to point out every detail of his person to basically say 'you're not going anywhere.' Joker had to put a hand in front of his eyes and he let out a feral growl at being cornered. He backed away as best he could from the bright light, heart racing at the thought of losing his freedom already. _I don't want to be caught! Not now! Not now! I just got out!! I haven't even seen Batsy yet!! It's not fair!!_

"This is the police!" _No, ya think?!_ "Drop your weapon, put your hands over your head, and lay flat on the ground!"

The Joker darted his eyes from the car in front to the walls around. He was angry at how easily they had caught him. _Well, they're not going to get me just yet._ To his left he saw an open window a ways up next to a drainpipe and decided to take a chance and break for it. He startled the two officers when instead of doing what he was told he ran _towards_ them and jumped on the hood of their car. With a running leap he lunged for the drainpipe and scurried his way fast to where the window was and threw himself in. By the time he had completed this the officers had fired off two shots and were immediately back in their car radioing in for other squad cars to cover any exits of the building the Joker now occupied.

As soon as he was inside Joker sprinted out of the room he was in and ran down the hall. He slid on the railing to get down the stairs and busted out one of the doors and back into the street. Without thinking of where to go--but not wanting to run into anymore cops--he kicked open the door to the building next door and slammed it shut. He then ran upstairs looking out every window to see if anyone noticed he had switched housings.

The siren calls grew louder as more of them showed up. Alerting the whole neighborhood of their presence as they made a secure parameter around the building. Some of the officers, with guns at the ready, covered all the doors and prepared themselves to go in. Once again, one of them spoke into the megaphone in their car saying they had the building surrounded and the Joker should come out with his hands up. They were causing such a scene that even nearby criminals were stopping to watch in awe as the police were getting ready to catch the Joker, the one criminal (aside from Batman) who was near impossible to nab.

The only funny thing was, is that they were at _the wrong building_.

Joker couldn't help it. He started laughing at this pointless charade. _The 'best and the brightest?!' Oh-ho! I think not!_ Joker tried to pull himself together when he knew that once the good ol' boys in blue raided through the structure and discovered him not being there, it would only be a matter of minutes before they figured out he had moved to another building when they hadn't noticed. He hummed his way out of the room, scratching his gloved fingers on the already ripped wallpaper, eyeing for the best way out.

But then a sound caught his full attention. It was a growling, shuffling sound that was coming from one of the rooms further down the hall. Curious as to what was going on, he thought he'd make a detour to find out just what it was. It sounded like a bunch of dogs fighting one another, and as he got closer he was most definitely sure of it. He crept up as silently as he could to not disturb them as he peeked around into the doorway.

Yep. He was right. It was a bunch of dogs. About five to be exact. Wild dogs who looked like walking skeletal structures with their skin suctioned in. It was clear they hadn't eaten for weeks. Some of them clearly had bugs crawling around on them, with visible moving lumps under the skin. Two of them had missing ears. Most likely from other dog attacks or they got infected and fell off. One had yellow puss oozing out of one eye, while another's lips were gone and walked like a natural on only three legs. But they all looked positively rabid.

However, their appearance wasn't what made the Joker stop and stare at them, seemingly hypnotized. It was what they were _eating_ that held him entranced.

The dogs were so ravenously hungry, they were ripping apart what looked like a cat. Each one of them took a piece of it and shook it harshly back and forth to tear it into smaller pieces. When one dog tried to take a portion of it from another dog's mouth, a savage and short fight ensued. Joker could even hear the bones crunch from the carcass when the dogs couldn't differentiate between what was edible and what wasn't.

When Joker looked down he saw that there was more. Not just guts littered the floor, but smaller bodies as well. Joker bent down slowly to examine one of them. It was a kitten. Or what was the remains of a kitten. Its tiny little neck had been broken and its stomach ripped out. He passed it back and forth between his gloved hands, amazed at how small and light it was. He soon tossed it back to one of the dogs that was close by. It quickly gnawed on it like a chew toy. "Good boy." He mused to himself. _You'll eat anything when hungry enough, won't ya?_

Joker let out a silent laugh and turned to leave the dogs to their 'meals', when suddenly there was a high-pitched squeak. Then again. And again. He turned on his heel with a confused and bewildered look on his face thinking _What the hell is that?_ He rested both hands on the door frame and leaned in slightly to look around. He did a double-take. He had never noticed the tiny ball in the corner. Joker squinted his eyes and saw from the shadow a little pink mouth peek out whenever he heard the squeak. His eyes went wide for a moment when he figured out what it was.

It was a kitten. And it was still alive. It wasn't hard to assume that the mother cat had most likely had her kittens here, when a pack of starving mutts heard the babies mew and attacked. The mother must have put up one hell of a struggle to save her kittens, but she was no match for the five beasts and was taken down, along with the rest of her kittens. All except this one in the corner. How it lived this long is anyone's guess.

The helpless baby was crying out for its mother, not knowing it had died trying to protect it. Its cries were filled with such fear, that for whatever reason, had struck a nerve in the Joker that held him there, staring at it.

Joker was having a weird battle within himself for what to do. His mind kept nagging _Forget it, let's go. Who cares what happens to it? Let's get something to eat, this is making me hungry._ But his body refused to move. Every part of him was starting to itch with the urge to leave, but he just stood there and stared. He didn't understand why, but he simply couldn't get his body to do what his head wanted. And that was frustrating him.

One of the dogs who had been sniffing the air twitched its ear in the direction of the squeak and turned. Joker stopped breathing for a second as the dog froze at the sight of the little thing, then charged, unthinkable intentions on its mind.

Joker doesn't remember doing it. He doesn't remember when or why he moved forward, but there was something about the fact that a little defenseless baby with no way to protect itself, its entire family slaughtered in front of it by something bigger and stronger, had pinched a nerve in the Joker's subconscious so acutely, that he ran over, grabbed a metal pipe off the floor and slammed it hard into the oncoming predator. The dog yelped as its body crashed into the wall. It continued to cry out when it seemed its lower back had been broken from the blow. It yelped and yowled, throwing its head around trying to bite its own tail while dragging its back legs away from the source of the new pain. The other dogs stopped what they were doing from the first initial howl and turned towards the Joker, now snapping and growling at him. Joker stood his ground in front of the kitten, protecting it for god only knows why. He hunched his back and twirled the pipe menacingly, growling just as fierce to the other pack. Spit was flying from his mouth as his eyes blazed with hate at the beasts in front of him. He took a step forward.

Well, blinded with hunger or not, the dogs understood that something more savage and unpredictable was challenging them. They stopped growling and whimpered, looking at the floor and back at the big scary thing which seemed crazier than they were. Sensing he was clearly the alpha male, they dipped their ears down and tucked in their tails. They couldn't flee the room fast enough when the Joker let out a kind of a bark. The other dog coward where it lay, shivering. Too scared to move, and in too much pain to try. It whimpered knowing it was going to be killed now that it was injured. Joker ignored its pathetic form, still quite upset from what happened but not knowing why. He had worked himself up by it and was now breathing heavy from the sudden adrenaline of anger. He threw the pipe against the wall where it bounced off and hit the floor with a clang, the dog flinching away from it.

But then Joker snapped his head to the doorway and froze momentarily when he heard the shouts of orders outside. _Oh damn, they know I'm here!_ He cursed harshly under his breath for doing what he did and not leaving sooner. He started to become aggravated and ran to the doorway. He had to leave, and he had to leave now. But he stopped at the exit when he heard the damn squeaking again. It seemed to hold a power over him. He looked over at the kitten, then peered out into the hall. He did this about four times while his mind practically screamed at him to get going, and _why_ wasn't he out the door already?

Without thinking about it, he shut down his mind, yelled in frustration and ran back into the room. He scooped up the tiny noisy ball, shoved it into his inner coat pocket and fled out of the room. Cradling his hands over where the kitten was, Joker ran for the stairs but stopped when he saw the front door open. He darted out of the way in time before being seen and ran to the other end of the hall and peered out the window. He looked around for an alternative but saw none. As he heard footsteps on the stairs mixed with muffled squeaks from his chest, Joker mumbled to himself about never coming to this part of town again as he took a few steps back then ran full speed at the closed window and smashed through it.


	2. Feeding Time

Joker didn't fall long before he landed surprisingly graceful on the fire escape stairs that passed under the window. After he held out one arm to catch his balance (the other still rested carefully over the still squeaking animal in his inner pocket) he practically stumbled over himself getting down the rest of the steps. He then swung over at the end, shoved the ladder down with one foot then, leaning in close, he slid down as far as it would go and dropped the rest of the way down. He hit the ground running, not even bothering to see if the police had caught sight of him fleeing the scene.

Once he was moving steadily through the streets Joker did not hesitate to make his way home, having his fill of 'close calls' tonight. He didn't slow his pace until he ended up in a more rundown populated area. Still feeling as if the cops were on his tail (which wasn't surprising considering that's all they had been doing for weeks on end) Joker did his very best to blend in with the thugs and low lifes that plagued this part of town. Although he was dressed in his signature outfit and war paint, Joker did a _fantastic_ job of moving unnoticed. Now it could be on account of that people were too afraid to acknowledge his presence in fear of what he might do, _or_,--Joker thought more likely--they were too drunk and high to even care or notice. Or even a little bit of both. Either way they left him alone. Except for the few individuals who thought they heard the clown squeak at them and they turned to stare with an eyebrow raised. _Dammit, this little squeaker box is giving me more attention than what I want._ Joker started to get paranoid and began to look at every face he past, _daring_ them to look back, so believing that one of them was an undercover lawman and was awaiting for the right time to pounce on him. Feeling himself in danger for no reason, Joker instinctively hugged the bump in his coat closer while weaseling his way through the rest of the crowd.

After escaping that, his hideout wasn't too hard to find. It wasn't anything to brag home about, just a barely-holding-it-together loft building that should have been condemned and torn down 30 years ago. Solving how it was still standing was probably the ultimate answer to the universe, but most likely could never be discovered. The perfect place for someone like him.

He ran up the steps to the front door and knocked the guy guarding the door from the inside to the ground when he forcibly pushed his way in. He and the chair he was sitting on clattered to the floor as the Joker passed him without a second glance. It echoed so loudly through the empty hall, it carried its way up the narrow stairs to the main floor above causing the room to suddenly quiet. Glancing suspiciously at his men when he reached the top stair, Joker swiftly moved towards his quarters across the main room, hugging his chest the whole time. His henchmen stared at him quizzically as they distinctly heard several high pitched squeaks come from their boss. Without so much as another word, Joker opened his door, stepped in and slammed it shut. Leaving all his men to stare at the door like they were expecting it to explode at any minute.

Once inside the safety of his own room, Joker carefully reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out that itty bitty thing that he had risked both tooth and claw to protect. _Literally_. Not once did it shut up, even as he plopped it onto his so-called bed. He started to strip off the coat, jacket and gloves of his outfit all the while staring at the little thing and mumbling incoherently something about the mess in his pocket. Once they were off and thrown uncaring to the floor, Joker walked slowly to his bed and crouched down on his hands and knees to the mattresses' eye level. He peeked over at the kitten, finally taking in what it looked like with childlike fascination.

It was incredibly small, most likely the runt of the litter. Its eyes were still closed and it was a creamy white color all over. The kitten was really...really..._ugly_. Nothing much to look at all. Joker was disappointed there weren't any distinct marks on it to make it look more unique. It was so young that he couldn't even tell what breed it was. Not that he would have known anyway, he's not a cat person. Joker guesstimated it was only a few weeks to even days old. _"Just a baby..."_ He whispered to himself.

Why did he save it? That wasn't his style. Oh sure, he'd do it once in a while but only if it was funny. This was _not_ funny. So _why?_ He had dealt with horrible situations before when it came to letting a pack of dogs or any other animal attack an individual. Hell, he had choreographed it himself most of the time. So what was so special about this instance? Joker just didn't know, and what was really mind boggling to him, was the fact he really didn't _care_ to know. It was here now, he hadn't let it die or killed it himself, so he might as well ride it out and see what happens. Maybe if he spends enough time with it, this strange hold it seems to have on him will wear off and then he can figure the ugly rat out and then kick it out the window. _Maybe using a bat too, like in Baseball....it __**is**__ small enough to be a ball..._

The little baby continued to cry when the Joker had an idea to shut it up. "I bet it's hungry." He said to no one. "Is that it? Are you hungry little guy?" When it squeaked in response Joker nodded his head with satisfaction. "I'll take that as a _ye__**s**_!" he smiled. He stood up, but stopped to think _Hmmm, I wonder what cats eat?_ He tapped a finger to his chin until his face lit up when the lightbulb flickered on. "Oh! _I_ know!" He snapped his fingers and pointed to the sky. "Cat_s_ like milk and fish! That's what you _want_ isn't it?" He turned and shook said finger at the kitten acting like he had figured the baby out already.

Without even trying to understand _why_ he was going to feed this little munchkin, Joker walked out of his room and while humming off key to _"What's New, Pussycat?"_ he sauntered over to the fridge, purposely ignoring the looks his men were giving him as he opened it to get milk.

There was none.

He searched the rotted cupboards for a can of tuna.

There wasn't any.

He started to throw everything around, clanging pots together for _anything._

They were all empty aside from some beer bottles and a bowl of sugar.

Joker slammed the fridge so hard it caused all his men to jump. He placed his hands on top of it and leaned his upper body down. He then slowly turned around and leaned against the fridge, eyeing all his men accusingly. The men could feel the air grow 10 degrees colder as Joker didn't say anything for a while. Just stared, and tapped his fingers leisurely behind him on the fridge. Some of them swallowed hard and fidgeted, knowing from experience that his body language meant he was really, _really_ pissed off. Although for the life of them they didn't know why.

"_**Ss**__oooo_," Joker said darkly with pure venom behind it. He wasn't even smiling. "Which one of _you_ drank all the _m_il**k**?" The henchmen sucked in air as fear trickled down their spines. They glanced at each other, for they knew the answer but were unable to tell him. Because, simply, they never _had_ milk in their fridge before. That item was virgin in their kitchen. But try telling that to a psycho-crazed killer clown who would slice your neck if you ever tried to correct him.

Joker studied each and every one of their faces when he finally rested on a tall skinny blond one whom he decided to address for no other reason but the fact he was the closest to the door. _"You."_ He shook a finger at him and when the guy realized there was no one else behind him, he nearly pissed his pants in fear right then and there. He started to think what in God's name did he do wrong to deserve the wrath of the Joker.

"You uh....Justin--"

"J-Jared--"

"_Whatever._" Joker tossed him a wad of cash from what appeared to be thin air. "Take that money, go to the store and pick up some milk and tuna.--_Oh,_ and you better get two percent. I don't ah, want any of that other watery stuff."

Jared stared at the money in his hand, and then back at the Joker in pure disbelief. The Clown Prince of Crime wanted him to _buy_ some milk and tuna? He knew the man had his odd quirks but this to him was a new one. Completely unexplainable. Not like him at a--

Jared gasped and flinched away as he felt a knife whiz passed his head and hit the wall behind him. He turned to look at the Joker with terror written on his face.

"We_llll_?" Joker was sick of his speechless fear and just wanted the man to get going. When it seemed like ol' Jared wasn't going to move, Joker flicked another knife up close to his own face, keeping the blade between his fingers, and just stared at him unamused. Within moments of that knife making an appearance Jared disappeared so fast, papers were flying around in his wake.

Joker smacked his lips satisfactorily and put his blade back into the waistband of his pants. When he noticed the odd plus looks he was getting from the rest of his men, he looked at them defensively and yelled "_What?_" Before he stormed back to his room and slammed the door.

After a few awkwardly silent moments his door swung open again with him standing there, hands gripping the sides of the doorframe, and he shouted at them "_I like milk!!_" As if that was suppose to clarify them all. Joker stood there unmoving for a few more minutes, then slammed the door shut. _Again_.

This time it didn't open, and his men looked at each other completely at a loss for words. Soon after they shrugged it off and blamed it on his chaotic mood swings and went back to whatever they were doing before the weirdness of their boss came home.

The look on Justin's (Jared's? Jackie's? Whatever his name was) face was not lost on the Joker, he just didn't care what he thought. He had a good reason for not stealing those things instead. And it was that he didn't want anymore attention tonight. Not when he was occupied by something at home. Something which was very hungry.

In about ten minutes Jared returned in record time with the two percent milk and can of tuna. Although he was covered in a sheen of sweat and looked like he had been chased by the devil himself. Joker took the two items from him and gave him a rather awkward pat on the shoulder before he went to the kitchen to grab a bowl and a can opener, which, strangely they had and went back to his room and told his men that he did not wish to be disturbed for the rest of the night. Which to them, was just fine and dandy. He was acting a little off balance more than usual, and they didn't want to set him off.

When Joker shut and locked the door to his room he clanged the items together, smiling. "Okay, din-din!" He plopped himself on the floor, setting all the items in front of him. He poured the milk into the bowl making slurping sounds with his mouth. "_Mmm mmmm!_ Yummy yummy, hm?" He sang while opening the can then set that on the floor next to the milk, cracking the can opener open and closed with one swift movement. He looked over at the bed expectantly for the little kitten to run over and start chowing down. He frowned when it didn't move but continued to cry.

"_Hey!_ What's _wrong_ with you? I thought you were _hungry_, you _ungrateful dog food!_" He got up and stormed over prepared to swat it off his bed, when he caught himself upon looking at it, hand frozen in mid swing. The little baby was so young, that its limbs weren't even strong enough to lift its back legs. It just wobbled back and forth crying, eventually falling over in defeat. "Oh. Well. If that was the problem, you should have just uh, said that in the first place." He scolded more to himself than to the kitten as he reached down and picked it up. It fit even smaller than his hand he noticed as he sat back down cross legged in front of the food. Joker brought the kitten to his face and turned it around so it could look at the milk and tuna, even though it still couldn't see yet.

"See that, down there?"

_"Meew!"_

"Yeah! That's your--"

_"Meew!"_

"Nono, let me **finish**. It's your food! You hungry, hm? Okay, here we go!" Joker made the kitten fly through the air like an airplane (with sound effects) and had it crash land to the ground and set it in front of the milk bowl. He bounced up and down, wiggling his knees in anticipation for the kitten to finally eat. But it didn't. Joker didn't understand that the baby was too young to drink from a bowl, and **certainly** too young to eat solid foods. It didn't even have teeth yet. He started to grow impatient and frustrated, running out of ideas as to what to do. He eventually picked up the baby and _dropped_ it into the bowl so it could drink the milk that way. But he removed it immediately afterwards when the poor thing nearly drowned in its depths.

He cradled the crying soaked form to his chest, gently bouncing it, trying to think of how to feed it. He knew if he couldn't get it to eat it would starve to death. And something about that sickened him to no ends. Joker began to grow visibly distressed as to what he should do. He even asked the baby what he was suppose to do. Strangely, at that moment, Joker had an idea. "Wait a minute. _I_ know what to do! Of _course_, why didn't I think of that before?!" Joker bubbled with energy as he got up to get what he wanted, and had to quickly bend down to pick the kitten up when he accidentally dropped it in the bowl of milk _again_. "Oopsies, hehe! Sorry little guy." He did a haphazard way of drying it off then laid it back on the bed to get that _thing_.

It would be a _real_ joke to say that some of the Joker's henchmen weren't druggies. Quite a few of them were addicted to Morphine. And in order to take Morphine you need a needle and syringe. A syringe was small and could hold a certain amount of liquid in it. And with the push of the back button with the right amount of pressure the user can cause the liquid to come out as fast or as slow as they desired. But most importantly, is that when the liquid comes out, it's just a small enough amount to fit for a _tiny mouth_.

Joker dug through his drawers for a spare syringe that he had stolen from one of his men for no apparent reason except to mess with his head when he needed his 'fix' and the main part was missing. It was terribly funny to see, but he soon forgot he had it when that man overdosed the next day. Joke was over, no more need for it.

He soon found it and pulled it out with a flare saying _Ah-HAH!!_, and sticking it in the air. "_Doooon't_ worry itty bitty kitty committee! As soon as I fill this thingy up and shove it down your throa**t**, you'll be getting fat in ah, no time!! Yes you are! _Yes you are!!_" Joker shook his head back in forth quickly speaking in baby talk as he filled the syringe up and picked up the baby. He sat down on the edge of the bed with the milk bowl next to him to refill it when needed, laying the kitten on its back in his lap as he flicked the syringe with his fingers. Joker wasn't aware his knee was bouncing until he heard the kitten's squeak tremble. He giggled uncontrollably at how cute it was, and did it a few more times until he finally picked up the kitten in his left hand face up.

He squirted a little of it into his mouth first, swishing it around. Then while humming his favorite little ditty, he leveled the tip of it to the kitten's mouth then waited until it opened and squirted a bit in. He suppressed a laugh when it was a _little_ too much and cut the mew off short spraying some of the milk every which way. "Okay, let's uh, _try_ that again. It's my first time, so there's bound to be, _hah_, mistakes."

He tried it again with a little less pressure this time, and after the baby started to understand that this was something to drink, it went quiet and started to suckle on the end of it. Joker tried with every fiber of his being to _not_ squirt it again and just sit still. He looked at what he had accomplished and smiled. "_Ahhh,_ so you _can_ be trained. Maybe there's hope for you yet, little shrimp."

And so the Joker sat there, humming a tune while dangling his legs off the edge. Unaware that he was slowly calming down and rocking the baby back and forth.


	3. Getting To Know You

Sorry for the delay on this one, but I had alot to get out, and so much to do at the same time. WHEW!! Anyway, a warning in advance; I have no idea if this makes sense or even sounds good or whatever. I just typed it up whenever I could and then I sent it out. But yeah, hope you guys like it!! ^w^ Comments are VERY welcomed.

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From that night forward, things changed for the Joker. Nothing too extreme or noticeable at first, but change nonetheless. For one thing, no matter where he was or what he was doing, Joker always had something to look forward to when coming home. He had something that _needed_ him and relied upon him for everything. Joker liked that. He more than liked it, he _relished_ in it. But the kitten meant nothing to him, he kept telling himself. Just an ear for him to ramble on to.

And _what_ an ear it became.

He would tell it everything from motivational phrases that confused him, to in depth details of the proper way to "gut a man" without him dying right away. He would always run home with 1,001 things to say, and with his eternal bubbling energy he'd tell each and every one of them to the kitten. Usually it was the first thing that came to his head, so it would start as one subject then end on a completely random one.

But most of the time, the one thing he would mention _at least_ 15 times a day was always about the Batman. This was a subject he talked in greater detail. If he started on a certain rant about him and finished it to it's end, he _always_ started another one right after, almost blending them together. Even if it was just about the Batman's boots, and what size they were and what it felt like to be kicked by them. He also stated on numerous occasions to the kitten that someday it should meet the Dark Knight because that's the best way to experience him in full. He would rant on about him when he fed the baby, to when he'd flop on the bed with his head dangling over the edge and his feet wiggling straight up in the air like some teeny-bopper on the phone with her heavy crush. And this continued on.

However, it wasn't just him _talking_ to the kitten that was new to his life, but the fact that he was now _thinking_ about the kitten whenever he was away from it. It would interfere with the jobs he would do, such as robbing a bank.

Within a week of owning the little thing and _still_ keeping it a deadly secret from his men, Joker insisted upon robbing more banks to acquire more money. Even as greedy as his men were, they thought this a tad excessive. Because they felt they had plenty of money already. But they never asked him why, because you just _don't_. However, Joker really didn't know himself, but his subconscious knew he was doing this so as to make sure there was plenty of dough to keep taking care of the kitten. Who really didn't need all that much in the first place, but oh well.

Joker had told the kitten (who he hadn't named yet, for lack of giving it a major thought) all about what he was going to do in great detail before he went and did it. This is how it usually went, he'd tell it this stuff first, then would go through with it. On this particular time, however, the robbery didn't go as smoothly as planned at one point. Something happened which caused it to falter. Something unforeseen. Something, which in a way, was the Joker's fault.

They had broken in and taken down the guards successfully with their masks on--except Joker, who thought it unnecessary for him to hide his face anymore--and moved to suppress the hostages and take what they needed. But when they got to that point, it became a bit of a lull, and the Joker ended up just standing around looking at everyone to make sure they weren't trying to leave. He soon got bored with that, and accidentally (and out of habit now) let his mind wander to that which now lived in his room. He stood there with one gloved hand to his mouth pondering if 'the baby at home was all right, and not too hungry' just like a mother would for her children. His brow furrowed the deeper he went into thought on it as his concern grew with the worst-case scenarios, now totally oblivious to the surrounding area and what was taking place around him. Unfortunately, that wouldn't have been a big problem had they not come on the one day _he_ was there.

The ten-year war veteran who was dishonorably discharged for suspicious conduct. His name was Steve Swensen, and was a rather muscular man with an ever clean bill of health. On the whole he was a good man, but he had made some rather bad decisions which always lead him to the worst possible trouble. He was no stranger when it came to killing or doing what was necessary to get what needed to be done completed, which just so happened to be one of the reasons he was at the bank today. He had to go to try and settle some old debts he was now badly in by stealing the money himself from the bank teller at gun point. Of course, that plan changed the second the first shot gun was heard from the Joker and his men rushing in. Taken down by surprise, Steve reacted like all the other people in the room and did what he was told by laying flat on the ground. He began to wonder what in God's name he was going to do now, when the Joker wandered aimlessly close to where he was laying, and gave him an idea. He could tell by the way he was acting the Clown appeared to be distracted, and decided to use that to his advantage. It was a rather risky chance, but he needed the money to fix his ever growing problems, so he went with throwing caution to the wind.

When it seemed no one was paying him any attention, he slid his one hand painfully slow into his coat pocket of his windbreaker and grabbed his gun. He held his breath as he scanned the room for anyone noticing, then stood up fast and pounced. He grabbed the Joker from behind, holding him in a tight headlock and placed the pistol to the side of the Clown's head. Steve screamed out loud to the Joker's men that they better stop what they're doing, drop the money on the floor and kick whatever weapons they had towards him, or else he'll blow their boss' brains out. Steve had been constantly moving out of nervousness, dragging the Joker around the room, nearly choking him in the process. He also shouted to the men that he wanted them to leave immediately, or the same outcome would befall the Joker.

With his adrenaline raging full swing, Steve started to think ahead and what he'd do once the masked men left and all the hostages were gone. He would still use the Joker as a human shield, (in case anyone of his lackeys dared to try and take a pot-shot at him) and drag him over to the safe to take the money out that he needed, and perhaps a little more as a reward for being a hero. He had no intention of dropping his first reason for being there, killer Clown in his arms or not. After hiding the money on his person, he would hand the Clown over to the cops and imagined he'd get a medal from the commissioner for doing what Batman couldn't and seemingly _wouldn't_ do. Knowing his commanding officers would get word about his heroics he would then rub it in their faces on how they should never have kicked him out of the service, and now what do they have to say about themselves and what they did to him.

However, the Joker seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, not minding that he was being dragged around the room with a pistol digging into his head. He didn't take the whole thing seriously at all. But he was rather impressed with this guy, having the balls brave enough to use _him_, of all people as a hostage when they were surrounded by nothing but Joker's men. He had nerve, and Joker liked him for that. It made things a little more interesting. He wondered how much this 'toy' would be willing to play in the future.

Steve flushed in anger at the madman's reaction to his attempt at taking control of this whole situation, and yelled at the Joker to shut up and stop laughing. If it wasn't for the fact he seriously needed the money he would have never even considered going straight to the source by grabbing such a man, or even keeping it going for this long.

"Oohoo! Look who thinks they're _such_ a hero! You're a _riot!_" Joker laughed while waving one of his arms around, trying to get his balance. The man was obviously bigger than the Clown and used that to the best of his advantage. For a few seconds it seemed to work, but stopped the minute Joker grew bored with this. "You know, if you wanted a dance _part_ner, you could've just asked me nicely! And I think it will be a bit more _comfortable_ for both of us if I can just..." Joker wedged his thumb under the wrist that was wrapped around his neck and twisted it. Steve had just enough time to cry out in pain when the Joker spun around and put a knife to the other man's throat. He used his other hand to yank the gun out of his grasp and throw it away with ease. He then grabbed the back of Steve's neck and yanked him forward, _hard_. "_Aaaah,_ that's much better, don't you agree?"

Joker glanced up and over at his men, frowning. "Well what are you all staring at? Quit standing around and _move my money!_" At the sudden raging command, Joker's men snapped back into action and began shoving the remainder of the money into their bags, albeit sloppy. "Now, where was I? _Ohhhh yess._" Joker turned his attention back to Steve, a wicked grin set on his features.

"That was a _verrry_ risky move you pulled there. Trying to get the better of me in front of my own _men_. Nononono, that just won't _do_!" Joker tsk'd at him while moving the blade up to the other man's cheek and tapped against it. Their faces were just a few inches away. "You know what I would _normally_ do to someone at a time like this?" He licked the corners of his mouth, loving the fear that quickly started to radiate off of the bigger man. "I would tell them a _little_ story about how I got my _scars_. **Then**, when I reach the ah, _cli_max of the ending, I take my knife, and put it here, like _so_." He slithered the blade carefully into Steve's mouth and tugged it gently against the left corner. "I say the grand, _final_ part, and th_eeen_..._**KKKKK!**_"

Steve flinched with a small gasp. Joker laughed at how jittery this so-called hero was, when he hadn't even done anything. _Yet._ "A little _jumpy_ aren't we? There's no need for that! I forgot to ah, mention that I only do this to the ones I intend to _kill_." He slid the blade out and held it in front of Steve's face. "I have no _intention_ of killing you. When I first came in here I would have, oh yes!" He chuckled at the thought of the many different ways he could do it. "But _that_ was before I found out how much _fun_ you are from the rest! We need more _peo_ple like you around to keep things, _interesting_. Of course, we don't want _too_ many, otherwise they'll be an epidemic! And we just can't have that, now can we?" Joker's smile was broad as he patted the side of Steve's face, hitting a little harder on the last one.

The masked men had packed all they could and started to bring the bags out to the van they 'borrowed' for the day. One gave a signal to their boss that they were all set and ready to go. Joker acknowledged him with a curt nod, then turned back to Steve, smiling. "Well! This was fun, but I have to ski-daddle off now. _No rest for the wicked_, as they say. I hope you don't _betray_ this little uh, 'second chance' that I'm giving you. Wouldn't want me to finish what I could've started today, do you? Of course not." He padded Steve on the shoulder and took a card out and tucked it into his pocket, lingering his hand there a bit longer than necessary. "That's my card. Consider it a, _'get out of jail free'_ card. Oh, and here." Joker reached into his coat and pulled out a cigar, shoving it into the other man's mouth. "Have a cigar, for your uh, _troubles_." With a dramatic flare he whipped out a wooden match, struck it from behind his ear and lit the end of the cigar.

Steve didn't get a chance to fully look at the gift that was rammed into his mouth. Because the second he looked down to follow the path of the match, he was greeted with a blinding light, a deafening sound and a sharp pain. Then everything went to black. The end of the cigar exploded, bucking Steve back and down to the floor. It wasn't enough to kill him, just to knock him out cold and keep him out.

Joker bent over, grabbing his stomach, laughing like a hyena. He tried to recover himself and leaned over the unconscious form. "Oh, you gotta watch out for those foreign cigars. If you don't speak their language, they'll knock you on your _ass!_" He skipped over the body and headed towards the door, his maddening laugh filling the room. When he reached the door, he twirled around and bowed to the terrified customers on the floor. "You have been a _wonderful_ audience, and I hope you enjoyed the show! _Nono!_ Don't get up on _my_ account! I'll show uh, myself out. Until _**next time.**_"

The second Joker got home he went straight to his room and made himself comfortable on his bed. He laid flat on his back, holding the kitten up over his head, telling it _everything_ that happened while he was gone in great details, leaving nothing out. Even saying some insignificant things, such as everyone's insistence to dress the same, to how tempted he was to take off his shoes and skate around the freshly polished floor. Of course, he also mentioned about the Batman, and how truly hurt and upset he was that his Batsy never bothered to show up to say 'hi' to his favorite Clown.

...It took him 3 1/2 days to finish the story.

Taking care of the kitten had started to become a chore. An insistent chore that seemed to never end. And it was beginning to take its toll on the Clown. He was growing increasingly impatient with the kitten. Always having to feed it, to take care of it, to _worry_ about it and if it's doing well. He was tired of it depending on him _all the time_ and of its constant taking and giving nothing in return. Oh sure, it was fun at first. Might even go so far as to say cute. But that had grown old rather quickly, and now he wanted nothing more than to throw the little pathetic thing out the window and be rid of it. But, he hadn't done it yet (although he had several close calls, one being where he ended up hanging upside down for fifteen minutes where his men had to finally cut him down), and that frustrated him further.

But worst of all, more than the clingy, needy way it was relying on him, was the fact it never changed. It stayed exactly the same, _bland_ self as when he first found and--unfortunately--saved the damn thing. No color! No excitement! And _definitely_ no sense of humor. How? How could someone like him have a creature so polar opposite of himself, put up with it for this long, and _not_ have killed it yet? He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. There was no way for him to solve this puzzle, if he didn't have all the pieces yet.

And then it happened. Something unforeseen. Something, incredible. A thing that the Joker would never be able to describe, and never had it happen before.

On his version of a normal, typical day, Joker was in his room sitting on the floor with his back against the bed. As per usual in his 'routine', he was feeding the kitten milk through the syringe he had. His mind was spacing off, drifting in and out of consciousness from exhaustion of the previous night fighting with the Batman on something he no longer remembers. He stared at nothing in particular when he started to hear that damn squeaking again. He looked down and saw that he had at some point dropped the syringe to the floor, and the kitten was letting him know it was still hungry.

Well that was it for the Joker. He felt he couldn't take having this thing anymore. With a feral growl he squeezed the kitten tightly in his fist and stood up. He bounded to the window, through it open, and pulled back his arm to chuck that fur ball as far away from himself as possible.

But then froze. His mind raced to catch up to what he was about to do, and forced him to stop. No. No, it wasn't his mind doing it. It was something else. Something which he had no control over. He realized what he was about to do, and somehow knew that wasn't the answer. He lowered his arm slowly until the kitten was dangling at his side, still squeaking. He felt tired, and confused. There was a knot in his stomach that he couldn't get rid of, although he did try to scratch it out on numerous occasions.

Joker took a few clumsy steps backwards and plopped back down to the floor when he felt his legs bump against the bed. He didn't like this control the tiny animal seemed to have on him, but he couldn't get rid of it. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't. So he sighed heavily, and picked up the syringe to continue feeding it. He started to formulate an alternative out of this, by having one of his lackeys dispose of the tiny creature. Once it was done eating, of course.

He began to bounce his knee in his way of rocking the kitten. Joker looked down at its face, and realized for the first actual, real time that he didn't have a name for it. _Funny how I think of this now._

"Well, until I have you thrown out with the rest of the garbage, I sup_pose_ I could give ya a name. Would you like that, my little pain in the ass? A _name?_" When the kitten didn't reply, the Joker took it upon himself to go along and pick out a random one. It gave him something to do, and it made him a little excited at the thought. "_Well,_ how about...Sparky!? Hehe, no, that doesn't fit you. I'd simply _love_ to call you ah, _Cat,_ but that joke's been done before. And I'm not much for sloppy seconds when it comes to repeated jokes. I could just call you Pain In The Ass..."

He laid his head back, closing his eyes, and hummed. Going through every name that didn't have anything to do with 'flying rodents'. It had to be one that suited the kitten to his standards. But he couldn't pick one out from the rest. Until finally....

He snapped his eyes open. "I know a name." He lifted his head, his expression bright and mischievous. "How about..._Ridalin!?_ That fits you _perfectly!_ How about it? Ridalin? Do ya like _that_ name?" He was about to break into great fits of laughter, when--

The kitten opened its eyes.

It looked straight into the Joker's, unafraid of what was there. Joker's breath hitched in his throat as he was taken back by the whole thing. It had never done this before, and he had grown use to it not seeing anything. Upon staring back, he felt an electrical current shock through his body and fill him completely. It caused the hair on his arms to stand up, and took his breath away.

Joker had never felt anything like that before, except towards one other being. But he _never_ dreamed that there would be another creature to cause him to feel the same way, with that same powerful connection. It was beautiful, and all of a sudden the little kitten didn't seem so bad, anymore. The urge to get rid of it left him forever. Joker never once blinked when the small furry thing gazed into his soul. They seemed to have passed something sacred between each other, that didn't need words to understand.

The baby began to purr for the first time at that moment, too. It reached out its tiny delicate arms until it could touch the Joker's fingers and dug its nails into him. Joker hissed a little, but it really didn't hurt. It was more of an affectionate way to hang on to him, and he didn't mind it.

"My little Ridalin." He whispered gently to the baby. _His_ baby. He smiled at the thought, and gave a silent vow, that he will do anything, and everything to protect it.

Because, it was _his_, now. And he was its.

The overall change in Ridalin, both mentally and physically after that day, was drastic. One might even say shocking. It appeared to be a whole new entity entirely. It even looked bigger. Its legs became stronger with boundless energy. It would be wreaking havoc on one side of the room, to streak over in a split second to do the same or worse damage somewhere else. _Everything_ not nailed down was a cat toy. It would even seem to chase after invisible objects that apparently were skittering across the floor.

But its outer appearance was the most striking. It was no longer the bland, all white ball of fur anymore. It had a long grayish tail, grayish paws where the color thinned out less than halfway up and solid grayish ears. The rest of the body had little or no color. The face was the most peculiar, in that the eyes were an emerald green and had a slightly darker grayish color encircled around them, and a thin tan colored line that overlapped the mouth and curved up at the edges. A spitting image of its master's painted face.

It was also cross-eyed.

Joker at first thought he might have played a part in that. The syringe he used to feed Ridalin use to hold Morphine at one point, and his memory of ever cleaning it out, or if it ever _was_ cleaned out was in a _purple haze_. That certainly would explain a lot. Eventually in time, Joker had decided to look up the kitten's breed, now that it had matured into a more defined form. He found out that his baby was a Lilac Siamese, and the cross-eyed look was hereditary to that breed. He also found out (to his greatest joy) that the Siamese were known to be quite _crazy_.

Another thing that made him fill with absolute pride was when looking at other pictures of Siamese, his was the only one that looked the way it did. His was special, unique. Just the way it should be.

He still kept the kitten locked away in his room, but started to bring trinkets and souvenirs home with him to give to his baby. One day he brought home a balloon that he snatched from a child, and gave it to Ridalin. The kitten attacked it as soon as he dropped it on the floor. It ran up to it than ran away, prepared itself to pounce, wiggling its butt, and then jumped on top of it only to roll off dragging it with. Through this whole thing Joker watched fascinated from his bed. When Ridalin had gotten the balloon trapped between its legs and began chewing on it, it popped. The kitten flew in the air, clearly startled and ran to the other side of the room then turned around in surprise. Joker thought this was the funniest thing he had ever seen, and actually _fell_ off his bed laughing so hard. He didn't stop even when tears were in his eyes and no more breath escaped him.

Ridalin saw its master's reaction, and stared in wonder. From that day forward, it decided, that it would do everything it could to make him laugh like that again.

And so began their weird relationship.

Joker continued to keep Ridalin his room, until it finally figured out how to work the doorknob. One night when he came back home from a rather rough game of 'cat and mouse' with Gotham's finest, he walked in to witness the most unusual scene of his men having a freak out with a cat on top of the cupboards, in which they were trying to sweep it down with a broom. But whenever they got close, the animal would strike out.

The Joker stood there amused as he saw that Ridalin was quite obviously winning the fight. But he grew angered when three of them charged at once with other various weapons, including a gun. Like a flash he whipped out a knife and threw it at the one with the gun. The man turned ridged and fell over, dead. That calmed the rest of them down and drew their attention to their boss. The madman took two slow steps forward and snapped his fingers. Immediately Ridalin jumped down off the cupboards and onto the kitchen counter, then onto the floor trotting over to its master and leaped up into his arms and positioned itself comfortably across his shoulders behind his neck. "_Don't __**ever**__ touch my baby._" He threatened them all from deep within his throat while Ridalin nuzzled his cheek staring all of them down. He walked silently to his room, petting Ridalin all the way as his men stared stupefied at him and wondered where the hell this new _thing_ came from.

From then on Joker no longer tried to keep Ridalin hidden from the world. Instead, wherever he went, the kitten went. They became inseparable after that. He even taught it a few games, the most favorite being tag. Ridalin was a quick study, quite evidently an intelligent feline. Joker would chase Ridalin around the warehouse until he caught up with it and tapped it. Now it would be his turn to run and the kitten would chase him. They literally did this for hours. His men made sure to stay out of the way when this odd fiasco would ensue. And when they grew tired of that game, joker would pick Ridalin up and set him on his lap face up. He would bend over pulling his hair in front of his face and shake his head back and forth, dangling the green locks over his baby. The kitten would use all its legs and teeth to try and grab it, drawing a laugh out of him everytime claws got snagged in and pulled his hair down.

Joker thought of Ridalin as his baby, so he got it baby toys on several occasions. The most favorite being a stroller, in which Ridalin would crawl into it, sit each of its legs in the proper holes and push itself to roll across the room. Imagine the looks on all the henchmen's faces when they sat around drinking and saw _that_ for the first time.

They stayed sober for two weeks.

Joker even taught Ridalin to attack on command when it was needed. He didn't have to say or do anything specific because his baby always knew. Word started to get out about his strange new 'companion', and how it was just as deadly as he was. Ridalin would lash out with everything it had because it knew it would make its momma happy. And it _never_ disappointed. He turned it into the perfect attack dog.

Momma's little monster.


	4. WouldBe Assassin

Sorry for the delay. Just got this backfrom my beta. Also, I'm sorry if it's confusing, but I typed it up late at night months ago and never bothered to try and fix it up *such a lazy fool B[* I'm sending the next and latest part to my beta now, and will post it up when she's done with it. Please comment, and enjoy ^w^

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"Okay, now just stay like that. Don't move...don't move." Joker stood very still. Holding one arm out for balance while lifting the opposite leg slowly into the air. His other arm was busy holding both of Ridalin's back legs up. His hand was splayed out as a solid platform for where Ridalin planted its legs. The front ones were holding steady on Joker's forehead. Ridalin stood very still.

There was no point to this balancing act. Just another oddity to an already rapidly growing list of quirks the two of them would play out with each other.

When the time seemed long enough, and the right balance was achieved, Joker tucked his body inward and somersaulted on the floor. The kitten ran leisurely down his back and down the length of one of his legs. In one fluid movement Ridalin positioned itself accordingly on his front, and when Joker snapped straight up with a hop, the kitten already had the ability to place itself comfortably on his shoulder. This flawless maneuver was carried out with in moments without one single pause, hesitation or mistake. It ran quite natural, as if clowns rolling around on the floor with demented cats strolling on top of them as if on a treadmill were the sort of things that happen all the time.

Ridalin let its master manhandle it in any way he so desired. Never once putting up resistance or trying to reposition itself to be more comfortable. Always seeming boneless in his hands like some floppy rag doll. If he wanted to hold it up by its neck or tail and do a few 'around-the-world' twirls about him just because he wanted to, then be damned to hell if the kitten wasn't going to let him have his happiness. It _loved_ him, and it would do anything it could to please him, even at the cost of its own safety. So it wasn't a surprise at all to the little animal when Joker grabbed it into his hands, gripped both front legs in one hand and the back ones in the other and _swung_ the kitten up and over his head until its body was slung across the back of his head and shoulders. Just like what you do when putting on a scarf.

Joker petted and scratched Ridalin's head. "All right there m'dear! How about you and I go on a little walky-poo! Would you like that, a little midnight stroll through the _true_ streets of Gotham? _Hmm?_" He turned his head as best he could to look at his baby just in time to see it let out a chitter in response which he took as an approval.

"Alrighty then!" And so with that, Joker grabbed his jacket, coat and gloves--with Ridalin _still_ balanced on his shoulders-- and skipped out of his room, slamming the door not quite right, causing it to wobble back open.

* * * * *

For all it's worth, for all the pure evil that lived in the darkest corners of its streets, for all the sin that was unequivocally alive behind every closed door, the city of Gotham at night was _beautiful_. Most particularly in the moonlight after a rainstorm. The way the light shined on every slick surface or rain puddle made the city look like it was fashioned in glass. Sparkling of an innocence it had never known, but would fool an onlooker from believing it to be anything but. Only its less-than human residents knew it to be a delusion. Knew that any fool to wander its labyrinth streets at night was pure, unadulterated suicide.

All except one, who _was_ the nightmare itself. The sinister creature that was persistent to plague everyone's thoughts moved unafraid of what lurked and waited in the shadows...

_That,_ or the fact he was so batshit crazy, logic, reason, and self-preservation were _loooooong_ thrown out that window.

Most likely it was both.

Joker strolled down the street with a rather jovial bounce to his step as he blathered on in great nonsensical detail to the full and unabashed attention of his feline companion keeping up with ease to his varying strides along side of him. He gestured with his hands to emphasize a greater meaning to certain words, every now and then looking down to his baby who would always be looking back at him intently. Even adding a chitter here and there right at the times it seemed most appropriate for a response.

"_Ahhh!_ What a wonderful night! We need to _do_ this more often sweety! I think, we're going to hafta have a schedule--nono, not a schedule. Hate those stupid things. Serves no real purpose. I _do_ like those little post-it notes...write a few reminders about this around the 'penthouse'....just a few, very little....like say, 7,000 or so...I'm sure that'll be enough of a reminder, don't you think?"

"Meiaah!"

"Yeah I thought so too. Oh hey! Did I tell you what Batsy did the last time we, ah _met_? Oh, it was so seamless, you should've seen it Riddy! _I,_ of course, saw through it right away. Knew what his, _ahem_, _real_ intentions were, despite what he says. I think I'm starting to _grow_ on him!"

The sounds of a bottle breaking, a car alarm going off and several dogs barking were the only sounds in response to the deranged laughter that followed the Clown's joke. As connected as they were, the whole thing was lost on Ridalin. They soon ventured down a maze of alleyways where if someone didn't know the way, would most likely be lost forever.

"Oh! Oh Riddy Riddy baby! You have _got_ to meet him! You'll love him, I can _feel_ it. I _know_ these things. It just boggles my mind you two haven't _met_ yet! That's it. I don't care what happens, I'm going to **make** you two meet one another! Yeah. Yeah that's it. That's what I'm going to do honey. When we get home, I'm gonna start setting up the pieces for a new game for Batsy which will be en_tirely_ on long needed introductions! I talk about you to him all the time, so he's uh, _heard_ of you. Though not _just_ by me. You'd be surprise just how many people--"

Joker abruptly stopped talking when he felt a tug on the corner of his coat. He paused in mid-step and looked down, puzzlement spread across his face. _This is new. What is it?_

Ridalin was yanking the purple fabric in its mouth to get its master to halt. Once he did, the baby dropped the coat and focused its whole attention onto something down a new alleyway that was very close to them. The kitten froze like a statue, pupils wide. It was completely alert about something, and Joker picked up on that. He followed its gaze and held his breath, straining his ears for any sound of where it might be. When he became aware of someone breathing besides himself, he knew what was going on. Joker looked down at Ridalin who was rigidly still until it finally looked back up at him for acknowledgement. When he gave an almost unnoticeable nod of his head, the kitten stalked silently over to the edge of the wall and into the shadows.

Joker, on his part, took a few steps closer to the alleyway on his tiptoes, then made enough noise to give off the effect that he wasn't aware of anything. When he crossed nearly halfway in front of the entrance, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and had just enough time to raise his hands up to his neck when he felt a metal wire wrap around his throat and tighten.

The weight of a body was flushed hard against the back of him, pulling him into the darkness of the alleyway. The struggle didn't last long, on account of the fact his hands were secured behind the thin weapon, and that he didn't like being unable to breathe. He liked asphyxiation, oh yes. But NOT when he didn't ask for it.

Joker pulled the wire away from his throat as best he could. But when it seemed this assailant was a _lot_ stronger than what he had initially thought, he quickly formed a 'Plan B'.

Well, less a plan, and more of a:

Feral growl--backwards slam against a wall--nose-breaking head bash--slip under and out.

Worked like a charm.

Joker was beaming at his success and giggled. He turned around to continue part 2 of his 'Plan B', when he was forced back a ways from looking down the barrel of a semi- automatic. He raised his hands above his head comically as the shadowed figure continued to back him up against the other wall. He continued to taunt the other one until a streak of moonlight shown its features, then the Joker froze. And stared. His hands slowly lowering as a dawning of recognition kicked him hard in the rear.

He _knew_ this person.

"Waaaiiiiit a minuuute. _Waitaminutewaitaminute __**WAIT. A. MINUTE.**__ I know you._ I. know youuu." Joker squinted his eyes and slightly tilted his head, shaking a finger. He grinned at the other one as if he had just got the joke. "You're that _guy_ from the bank! The one who decided to take a crack at being a ah, _hero_ for a day! Yeah! Yeah that's _YOU!_"

Joker clapped his hands, bouncing up and down, laughing. Remembering that day clear as a bell.

Steve Swensen, on the other hand, was far less amused. Recalling the same day with a bit more of a haze, considering he couldn't for the life of him remember how it ended. But he knew he woke up humiliated and in pain. And still in considerable debt. He remembered enough to know that he hadn't taken care of what he originally planned on doing. He needed money, but he didn't want to risk the whole bank thing again, after the first time. So, he tried other ways to get money quick. The first three didn't work at all, and the last one he fell in on accidentally. However, it said they would pay good money if he would 'cap off' a few people that didn't need to be around anymore. The first one was easy pickins, but didn't pay as well as he would have liked. And he was impatient.

So, when he heard of the price that someone was sending out on a particular 'clown', he didn't even hesitate in being the first one to nab the job. (However, it turned out that he was _the only_ one who stepped up to the plate. Especially since after the last guy who tried it. Unfortunately, Steve hadn't heard that tale.)

Steve smiled dangerously back at the Joker, tsk'ing him. He knew the Clown was going to die tonight, and felt kind of bad for him in how simple his demise was going to be.

"Aww. You remember me. That's sweet. I'm touched, really. You know, I gotta say I am really sorry it had to go this way. But, I need the money, you understand." He straightened his arm and leveled the gun at the Clown's head, cocking it back. Steve laughed. "You know, you really shouldn't have come alone."

Joker didn't flinch when the gun was raised. Instead, he mocked innocence, looking left and right. Then he looked Steve square in the eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, _who_ ever said I came _alone_?" He raised his hand, and snapped his fingers.

Steve only had enough time to frown, hear a clanging sound behind him and turn. He never saw it clearly. His mind blanked as he felt a torrent of claws ripping his flesh open so fast his body never had a chance to react in time. He heard himself scream in ways he didn't know were possible as blood flowed down over him mixed with a screech that sounded very much like a baby crying. It moved so fast, he never had a chance to deflect.

Joker stood there, watching as his beautiful pride and joy ripped apart the man whom he had once considered to have work for him. Eventually, when he got bored with just standing there, he leisurely took out his favorite knife and stepped forward. "Well, if ya can't beat 'em..."

* * * * *

The streets of Gotham were strangely quiet. The only sounds heard were the echo of feet skipping merrily down the Narrows mixed with off-key humming, and a rather content and heavy purr.

Ridalin sat atop its master's shoulders, licking the blood off its paws, face and other parts of its body. Unbelievably content with itself from its master's reaction to its good deed. It _loved_ its master.

Joker thought tonight was indeed an excellent night for a stroll. He was so proud of his baby that he decided to get it all kinds of wonderful gifts tomorrow of various types. He _loved_ his baby.

_A twitch of flesh...A gurgle of pain...A crawling 'thing' that should by all rights be dead...A force of will, mind over matter...A vow of revenge...Before he passed out from the unbelievable blinding agony, Steve filled himself with one thought, and one thought only...Someone was going to die, and NOT for money...He __**hated**__ them..._


	5. The Deaf And Frantic Fire

OMG, so sorry for the overdo update. I actually finished and posted this chapter up somewhere else in early June, but only recently had a chance to send it to my beta cuz I've been crazy busy. My car of 4 years decided to die when I was on the highway on my way to work with my mother in the car as well. And when I mean die, I mean it doesn't run anymore. Engine's shot, and the price of getting a new one is about the same as getting a new used car. So, since it was a major gas guzzler anyway I decided to go with the latter. But before I could find one I really had no way to get to my 3 jobs and then to top it all off, I got the swine flu. Yay. BUT I'm better now and I got another car and my one seasonal job is quickly coming to a close, which means I'll have more time to update on this and other of my stories! So yay!! Hope you haven't thought I lost interest, cuz I haven't. Hell just stopped by and refused to leave until I threatened to lock it in the den playing episodes of "Clutch Cargo" and "Diver Dan" on a neverending loop. (God, I hate those shows B[ ) Oh, and I'm sorry I haven't commented back to some of you, but now that the skies are clearing I'm going to try and do that ^w^. Enjoy.

((**WARNING:** Everyone whose read this series so far, I've got to tell you that this chappy is a lot darker near the end. In fact, you probably won't even like it...but, there's more chappys ahead, so, hope you don't hate me and just stick with it, hehe?? Also, I finished this at like 5 in the morning, so I'm really sorry if it sucks. If you notice anything a little weird that needs to be fixed, just lemme know, okay? Oh, and the first part of this chappy I just made up recently. It wasn't in the original idea, but I thought I'd try and make it enjoyable, at least there. Comments are love!))

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The next day Joker was true to his word. He started plotting and planning various ways of how he should introduce his baby to the Batman. None of which two were ever the same but all equally dramatic in one way or another.

He eventually landed on one that had to do with Ridalin dropping down from the sky onto Batman right at the punchline.

...or was it setting up a trip wire to send ol' Batsy shooting into the sky?

Aww, doesn't matter. He would just make it up as he goes along, as usual.

Joker grabbed an assortment of random items, flood lights, nick-nack and doo-daas (including a rather nasty, rancid-looking fish that he insisted _had_ to be there for whatever reason) into two very large duffel bags, then with Ridalin in tow, headed out into town with a skip to begin the setup for this important 'meeting'.

Everything went up with very little hassle, and all that was left for him to do was to set up the bait for the Bat to come running. Joker was bubbling with excitement he could barely sit still with anticipation for what was to come. He sat down on a rooftop, keeping himself occupied in the meantime with petting his baby and shooting at anyone who came too close to his 'trap'. _Don't want it sprung too soon. Can't they see I'm working here?!_

And so he waited.

But Batman never showed up that night.

To say Joker was taking this dismissal badly was like saying Edward Gein had a few problems; HUGE understatement. He was having the world's worst two-year old tantrum, going after anything and everything that appeared to be in a good mood (including a few buildings where he would go berserk on the brickwork with his knife for no other reason but for it simply being there).

"How could he do this to us, Riddy?! Doesn't he have _any_ idea how much work I've put into this?! **Just** for him! **Always** for him! _But it's never good enough!!!_"

Joker paced back and forth in the middle of the street, ranting on like some housewife who was on her final straw. He waved his arms wildly in the air for emphasis on certain words. Spit was flying, and all Ridalin did was sit calmly from the sidewalk, its gaze following him back and forth with keen interest, purring.

Until it heard something from a building to its left that caught its full attention. The kitten trotted over there and watched the several types of TV screens in the window.

Joker hadn't noticed. "Well that's it. First thing tomorrow I'm going to make Batsy pay for his absence. When I'm through with him he'll never think twice about standing me up again. Come on, Riddy!"

Joker had fisted his hands till his gloves squeaked and nodded his head quickly in agreement to whatever was running in his mind. When he called for his baby he turned sharply in the direction of home and strode off.

Ridalin heard the command and knew what it had to do...but it just didn't want to leave the screens. It had a feeling it was important, but didn't know why. The kitten looked from them to its master, and eventually ended up running after the retreating purple form.

~~~Being as upset as he was Joker didn't bother to dismantle his trap. So he missed one of the mayor's right hand men--who was out on one of his many rendezvous with his usual harlot--being flung into the air and over the city getting a wonderful view of the night life, screaming like a girl the whole way.

It would go down in history as one of the most random flukes anyone ever saw.~~~

Joker didn't get any sleep that night he was so overly upset. He paced his room until morning and _still_ refused to calm down. He made it quite clear he wished to be left alone, aside from Ridalin's presence. He eventually went out into the city to take his pumped up rage out on the citizens, knowing full well Batman would come running no matter what.

But he didn't. For the second night in a row Batman never showed up.

Nor the next night.

The Clown flayed the streets with his wrath, painting everything in red. He was fuming when it seemed nothing he did brought the Batman out of his hiding place. Where was he?! Why wouldn't he come?! How **dare** he do such a thing!?!

...What happened to him?

When that question fluttered into his mind, Joker's rage was mixed and then soon replaced with concern. He didn't know how to express such a feeling, so he had it fester into more violent attacks. _What's become of him? Is he all right? Does he know it's all his fault in making me feel this way? Worry like this? I don't worry! It's not what I do! __**Bastard!**__ How could he do this to me?! __**US?!**_

Through all three days Ridalin shared in his anger. Mirroring every action he gave with its own style and flair. Not fully understanding _why_ they were so upset and lashing out at basically anything that did or didn't move, the kitten knew its master had good reason for doing so, and believed that this might help in some way.

Until the morning of the fourth day. When something rather curious dawned on it.

And it knew it had something to do with the man on the TVs it had been fascinated with. So when they walked by another window with TVs all over, and that man's face was plastered over everyone of them, Ridalin stopped and chittered for its master's attention.

Joker was mumbling to himself, his head filled with worst-case scenarios of what might have happened to the Bat that didn't involve himself. The pleasant cry that he had grown fond of snapped him out of his mental soliloquies. He stopped and turned to see his baby a ways back staring at him then to something in front of it. Joker barked out a 'What?!' at his own baby.

The kitten wasn't the least bit perturbed by this and instead took a few steps closer to the window. It placed its front legs on the glass, pawing at it. Then sniffed at it before turning its head towards its master and chittering with a 'come hither' meaning.

The Clown made a big show of impatience by rolling his eyes, raising his arms up a little then slapping them to his sides, and heaving out a dramatic sigh. He trudged over there for one reason only: if something interested his baby, in the long run it was worth checking out.

But how could this possibly be worth even the spit he carried? On every TV screen that he saw (and there were a lot of them so the image couldn't be missed) was Gotham's very own bachelor of the century, Bruce Wayne. Not too many sets were showing the same footage, but it was all on him and what appeared to be one subject.

Joker looked down at Ridalin to protest, for he couldn't care less about the undeniably handsome billionaire. But the kitten simply ignored him and continued to focus on the screens. Joker looked back up and began to figit. He couldn't hear what was being said and he didn't feel like wasting any energy in breaking the glass. That would set off an alarm and the sound would be too irritating to handle in his exhausted state. He hadn't slept a wink since Batman's sudden and unexpected disappearance and he wouldn't until he knew where the flying rodent was.

And if he was all right.

He conked his forehead on the clear surface and started to read sluggishly the subtitles from one of the monitors. What he read didn't register in his brain right away, so he missed the main details. It also scrolled too fast for him to pick up a coherent story. But one thing in particular seemed to nag at his brain.

What he pieced together was this: four days ago the snarky Wayne heir had to go off to the ends of the earth somewhere to settle something nobody cares about and had caught some flu bug of a funny name and has been bed-ridden ever since.

Four days ago.

Four days..._three_.

Batman hasn't shown up for _three nights_.

Joker's eyes widened. He lifted his head off the glass (which now had an odd imprint to its surface) as that fact settled and ran through his head over and over again.

Ridalin looked up at him as if hearing the gears slowly turning. Things started clicking into place as loose ends came to a close. Random blips of harmless suspicions and telephone whispers now were more truthful than facts. Outlandish remarks began to have an eerie coherency. A hundred and one telltale hints started to form into a solid entity. Humorous jokes on the subject weren't funny anymore.

The perfect alter ego during the day to divert too curious of eyes, being able to afford all those nifty gadgets and wicked cars, being able to hide from the world when needing to in some supped up cave...

The light bulb flickered on. Followed by a loud ding, and suddenly everything crashed down into perfect sense, making the world spin into a thousand voices screaming the same answer all at once.

The madman gasped and pushed himself roughly away from the window as if it had burned him, taking several clumsy steps back. He stared, and couldn't stop staring at that face, the many poses, the plastic smile, the normal frivolous ways...

Those liquid dark eyes.

"_No._" It came out soft, and the Clown wasn't even aware he had said it at all.

_No it, it can't be. It just...__**can't**__. Not __**him**__, dammit! Of all people! I just--no. It's not. I won't believe it. Not my Batman. Just stop it. __**Never**__. It's not true. All a lie. Simply impossible. __**Just stop!**_

His heart was racing as the world shifted. _Too much at once._ Gloved hands pulled at greasy green locks, eyes closed so tightly it hurt. He had to calm down. He didn't know for sure, it was just an assumption. _I'm jumping too soon. That's it. Just a coincidence. Mustn't jump to conclusions. No actual proof, can't judge from a stupid television set. They'll make you believe anything. So easy to manipulate the things you see on there. Must relax. Breathe. __**Just shut up!**_

The swirling laughter and cries that were mocking him of his stubborn inability to see it for what it was silenced immediately by one, simple chitter at the side of his head. He became aware of a weight on his shoulders followed by a tender nuzzle to his cheek and sandpaper licks. A soothing motor rung into his ear and vibrated down through his body. He lowered his hands lazily to his sides with a sigh as tension and confused, misplaced anger seemed to float up and out of his body to whatever was resting across his shoulders. He leaned his head back against the warm body and rubbed his hair gently against it. When a sort of calmness he hadn't felt in days washed over him, the Clown unclosed his eyes and stared into the comforting green ones of his baby.

"Hmm, thanks." He smiled and massaged at the base of one of Ridalin's ears. The kitten closed its eyes and gave its master several love nibbles on his jaw and ear. Joker took his other hand and scratched the end of Ridalin's back which rose up for more contact. _Heh, now I remember why I named you 'Ridalin.' It suits you._

When his baby began to kneed the area just below his collarbone, Joker's refreshingly cleared mind went back to the subject at hand: Bruce Wayne.

What was he going to do about this?

He needed to make absolutely sure that his conclusion was correct. After all, this was the Bat he was talking about. No stone must be left unturned. He was too curious now not to follow through. So he made a decision;

He and his baby were going to pay the pretty billionaire a visit.

Right now.

So, with Ridalin riding atop his shoulders, Joker made his merry way to the penthouse.

But when he got there, it seemed to be abandoned. Since he never followed the young heir's life on the news before, he never got the update that the Wayne Manor had finished being rebuilt, and he and his loyal butler relocated back there.

Joker knew the city better than anyone, but on the outskirts he rarely traveled. So trying to find the house on his own was near impossible. Thankfully the madman was very persuasive when it came to getting information. And after 3 destroyed minds later, they arrived at the gate of Gotham's most beautiful estate.

Joker figured the place would be big, but he never expected _this_. He gripped the iron bars that kept him out and gaped at the sheer size of it. "So this is the _neeew_ version. I wonder what it looked like in flames." An odd manic look overtook the Clown's features as his thoughts were filled with fire. _Maybe I'll have to try it myself someday..._

His pleasant thoughts of destruction were interrupted by a whirring sound which he quickly discovered were the roving cameras that were strategically placed to be able to scan the entire grounds. Joker felt himself shiver with excitement. "Ohh Riddy! Even if it turns out that Mister 'Look-at-me-I'm-rich-and-boring' _isn't_ the Bat, this is going to be fun anyway!" He bounced up and down, giggling like a child outside the amusement park. Joker looked around at how he was going to get in short of climbing, when he decided to try pushing the front gate open just to see if that would work.

He laughed hard when it did. "All these expensive cameras everywhere and most likely some highly skilled guard dogs on hand, and they don't even remember to lock the front entrance! Oh, I think our dear Brucey is slipping Riddy!"

Joker crouched low and slipped under the radar of one of the cameras. He held his hand up and waited for the lens to start moving in the other direction. The second it did he yelled to his baby and the two of them dashed across the lawn. He flopped behind a decorative but pointless bush near the front door and tried to keep himself under control. Joker scanned the house and saw a window close by that was cracked open just enough to fit a small animal through. He peeked to make sure the coast was clear then gestured to Ridalin his intentions. He clapped his hands together and the kitten jumped up into his arms. He then quickly lifted his baby to the sill and it slipped through seamlessly.

One in, one more to go.

Joker had to sum up every bit of restraint he had to _not_ just waltz in through the front door. _They would certainly never expect it._ But the Clown had no intention of wanting to be caught. Today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today.

He searched quickly for another way in that would be able to fit him, and found his lucky break. A window had been strung open two stories up. It seemed like a reasonably easy climb for him when all he had to do was monkey-climb up the drainpipe and swing in. His heart was racing at the thrill of being caught as he watched for the surveillance to be pointing in any direction but where he was. Joker held his breath and dashed past the front door and moved to his destination.

He leaped at the pipe and scrambled as fast as he could up to the open windowsill. But suddenly he couldn't move. He tugged and looked down at what was holding him. The edge of his coat was caught on a loose nail. He growled in frustration when he couldn't get it free and the cameras were starting to rove back in his direction. Without thinking he shrugged out of it and continued his pursuit as the purple fabric fell with a thud to the ground. He was more than certain a camera clearly caught him flipping himself over the side and landing hard on his back. Sudden blindness kicked in, as he resented not grabbing at least two of his odd-number of knives he kept in his pockets of his coat, which now rested in a clump on the grass.

Joker got up and brushed himself off, giggling at how easy it was. He turned around to see where he ended up,which appeared to be a bedroom. An exceptionally lavish bedroom. But Joker's attention was drawn to the four poster bed that was against a wall. A soft grumbling sound was emanating from the middle of it.

Something was _in the bed_.

Or more correctly, someone.

Joker silently tiptoed his way to the side of the bed and when he was close enough, peered over to get a better look at the shadow-covered form.

Sleeping peacefully with a barely audible snore was the billionaire himself.

Even from how shaded he was Joker could see that the young man was ailing. His brow was knitted together and every once in a while a twitch would form at the corner of one eye. Dark circles surrounded his closed eyes and the beginnings of facial hair were becoming more prominent. Even with all these little details the man was still incredibly attractive.

Joker leaned in closer to the young man and concentrated on the shape and detail of the lower half of his face. He raised one hand up and--without touching--placed it over the eyes and nose. Joker's eyes widened at how similar it was. Dare he say, uncanny? He let out a shaky breath that ghosted over the playboy's features. "No, it...it can't be." He whispered. He raised both hands up to Bruce's eyes and touched his index fingers and thumbs together to form circles. All the other fingers he pointed straight out like horns. Joker then shifted himself until his upper body was hovering above the sleeping figure. He raised his hands to the young man's face like a mask, and...

_Oh my god..._ His heart skipped a beat. "Batsy?"

As if on cue, a loud crash, followed by a screech from a cat and shouts from an older man rang into the room. Joker whipped his head to the bedroom door and stared, knowing full well what was going on. Ridalin had been caught. He sat very still as he heard it all again.

Joker saw a large form move out of the corner of his eye and face the door. Joker's face slackened as he turned his head at the same time the thing next to him did, and stared face to face with an equally surprised Bruce Wayne.

A whole beat went by in silence.

"Uh, _hi_?" Joker cracked a side smile and waved lazily as he watched with fascination the billionaire's facial expressions change from first surprise, then extreme anger, which was quickly replaced with a less believable sow of fear.

Another, more awkward beat went by, then---

_**"AHHHHHH!"**_

Both men screamed in each other's faces at the same time. Joker did it thinking it would be funny, knowing the other was going to do something like that in return.

Bruce shot both his arms out and grabbed hold of the unwanted clown and tried to pull him down onto the bed. Joker reached one arm behind him for something to grab hold of (which was a lamp) and smashed it down hard onto the bigger man's head. Bruce grunted in pain and immediately released his grip on the Joker to cradle his head. They both quickly recovered, but the madman was faster. He wriggled out of reach and ran toward the door, throwing it open with a bang and running full speed down the hall.

He hadn't the foggiest idea where he was going, but was having so much fun he didn't seem to care. All he knew at the moment was to find his baby and hightail it out of there.

When he heard another shout and yowling coming from somewhere beneath him, Joker focused on it and followed it until he came to a stairwell. He swung one leg over the polished railing and slid down to the end, hopping off at the last part and taking a few steps to the door then stopping to turn around. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a glass shattering whistle. Another thunderous crash later and Ridalin darted out one room and ran at its master, being closely followed by an elderly man wielding a broom looking none too pleased. When he caught sight of who was in front of him he halted, a shocked look on his face.

Joker ran the rest of the way to the door and flung it open. Ridalin shot out like a bullet through his legs. When he himself stepped out and turned around, he had enough time to see a very withered, extremely angry Bruce Wayne fly down the stairs three at a time before he gave a semi-salute and a joyous 'bye!' then slammed the door shut.

The Clown cackled across the lawn, not caring about the cameras anymore. But then he skidded to a halt when he remembered he had left his coat outside the window. He turned to run back but changed his mind when the screeching of an alarm rang through the air. _Of course they'd spring an alarm! __**Bat**__man wouldn't spring an alarm, but he's not quite Batman now, is he?_

_"NEVERMIND! KEEP THE COAT, IT'S YOURS!"_ Joker shouted while running back to the first entrance. It seemed like he was home free, when he noticed the iron gates were closing. Ridalin just made it through, then stopped and turned around, waiting for him with wide eyes. It let out a chitter when the gates clanged together. Joker was locked in.

If he was aware of this new problem, he sure as hell didn't show it. With an air of 'Gate? What gate?' he took a running leap at the bars and crawled up to the top then flipped himself over to the other side with ease. When he hit the ground he got up as fast as he could and ran shrieking with laughter all the way back home with Ridalin beside him.

His lackeys had been acutely aware of their boss' recent bad mood, so they had been holding up on the other side of the building to give their boss as much space and time alone that would be safe. But still within hearing distance in case he called for them. The worst thing they could do when he's in black moods like this is completely ignore him when he calls. That would be just asking for a sure reason to have him kill them. So they stayed there, watching TV and drinking beer.

And Joker was just fine with that. He didn't want to be bothered by their presence anyway. When he got home he went straight to his room and flopped on his bed with Ridalin resting on top of his chest. He couldn't stop laughing at the sheer thrill of the event. It wasn't quite what he expected, but oh how he missed this adrenaline rush that he only got when facing the Batman.

"Oh, Riddy! That has got to be the _most_ fun I've had all week!" He said while scratching his baby's back. Ridalin purred in response to it. "Now not _only_ do I have him during the night, but I get to visit him during his _day_ job, as well! So big shot Brucey is my Dark Knight! That certainly changes things between us, a little...going to have to redo my schedule to add him in there _now._"

Joker's breathing was coming back to normal, and as he began to get more relaxed, the lack of sleep was finally taking its toll on him. "_Weellll,_ that was _sooo_ much fun, I think I'm going to do it again tomorrow! And the next day, and the next day, and the next..day....*yawn* and the...next..."

Joker passed out from this new ordeal and slipped into a rather heavy slumber. Ridalin curled up into a ball and slept almost as soundly.

Until that intruder woke it up to full alertness.

_He had been watching the place all day. Waiting for him to return. He knew he would, it would just be a matter of time. Even if he didn't show up til days later, he'd wait for him. What else was he to do? After what happened, his only thoughts were consumed with destroying the clown._

And he would get his revenge for what he and that stupid cat did to him.

By all intents and purposes he should be dead. That's what the doctors told him when he woke up in the hospital room. But he refused to back down, to give up so easily. He survived whatever they gave him by pure willpower fueled by hatred, and nothing else.

He was only going to do it for the money. It was suppose to be so simple. What the hell happened? He can't even remember the attack fully, just the clown's face right before the excruciating pain overpowered all other senses. The next thing he remembered was pain, again. But now he's lying on the ground. Thought he had died, but somehow made it through. He remembers using all the energy he had left dragging his mutilated body through the filth-infested streets.

Someone found him, someone of better character, and took him to the hospital. Then he can't remember anything besides the bright light which he shied away from every chance he got.

When he finally awoke, he had his whole face and body wrapped up like a mummy. He couldn't remember who he was. All he knew was the pain, and an unforgivable laugh.

He ripped the bandages off to see what had happened, and his soul never stopped screaming. What stared back at him from the hospital supplied mirror wasn't a face. It wasn't human, he didn't know what it was. But he knew it shouldn't have been. Wasn't always like this. Most of the upper lip gone, along with the nose, part of the jawbone, and an eyeball.

He never looked at the other parts of his body that had been deformed.

He doesn't remember much after that, except the burning image of that god forsaken painted face being the motivation for him to get out of the hospital somehow. He doesn't know what he did, but all he knew was that he got out, and now he needed to find the one who did this to him and make him pay with his life.

It wasn't too hard to get people to tell him what he wanted to know. They were so scared of his appearance and what he would do to them if they said no, that it only took about a day to find the right location and put his plan into action.

He had gone out and bought gallons and gallons of gasoline. Yes, there was no escape for him this time.

So he waited. And was eventually rewarded for his patience when the Clown Prince himself returned home, happy as can be without a care in the world.

And that animal was with him too. Perfect.

He waited fifteen minutes, and then made his way over. A gas can in each hand. He left his gun in his pocket, in case there was trouble in having someone try and stop him.

But no one did. The guy guarding the door was easy to take out. He did it without so much as a yelp. After that he was surprised just how simple they were all making it for him. When it seemed no one was around to interfere, he started the first step of his plan.

But first, he found the bastard's room.

When he peeked in he saw him fast asleep with the beast lying on top of him. How vulnerable he looked. So tempting...so incredible was the drive to just barge in there and strangle him with his bare hands, or plant a bullet in his brain. But he suppressed the urge masterfully, and closed the door without a sound.

He took one can and emptied it at the far end of the hallway. Then taking the other to the opposite side of the building and dumping it all generously there as well. He went back outside and grabbed two more and did the same in various places with them. Then went back out and grabbed the last two cans to vigorously dump them everywhere he had missed the last four times, including outside the Clown's door. The place wreaked of gasoline, but he didn't care. The building and everything in it was soaked. There was no getting out of here.

He was finishing up the contents of the second to the last canisters, when he heard a feral growl behind him. He turned around and was greeted by the sight of the four legged beast itself. The Clown's prized possession.

Its back was arched and the fur was standing on end. It let out a yowling growl everytime he was going to move. But he prepared for this unholy monster this time. He slowly reached into his pocket of his shredded windbreaker and pulled out a pair of fireproof gloves. Slipping them on carefully, he stalked closer to the animal just as it lunged at him.

This time he caught it. It went berserk in his hands, and failed in his attempts to break its neck. It was making too much noise, and he didn't want his main target to wake up. So he threw the beast into a closet and locked the door. He heard it spitting and yowling, but now it was muffled. Didn't matter.

He hurriedly carried the last can to the stairs and dumped down to the main door. He threw the can outside and took out a matchbox, and one single match. He did his very best at giving it a kiss, then struck it alive.

Without another word, he threw it down and instantly a fiery trail blazed all the way upstairs. He closed the door, walked down the steps, tying a scarf around his face and headed home.

Joker had strange dreams. And considering he never remembers them, this was weird to him. They were vivid, and in them involved his baby crying out for him...but he couldn't find it. He ran calling its name as the air grew hotter, and heavier. A roaring sound grew louder each time he called out. His legs were so heavy as he tried to run. Heart beating fast enough he thought it would burst. Someone calling out to him now, but they seem so far away...Ridalin...where was Ridal---

"_Boss! Wake up now! We gotta get out of here!_"

"Huh? Wh-what?" Joker felt hands shaking him awake from that most unusual dream. He started to cough as he opened his eyes. The room was thick with a black smoke that seemed to suck all the air away. The smell was so familiar, why couldn't he place it? His mind was still too groggy from sleep to fully understand what was happening, and who was man-handling him on his feet. His eyes burned as he tried to focus on the person in front of him.

It was Thomas Schiff, and his face was as white as a sheet. He coughed out the next word the best he could. But Joker snapped fully awake when 'fire' was brought up.

"Ridalin, come on!" He commanded as he pushed past Schiff and into the main entryway. The heat was explosive. He heard his other men shouting to one another to get out and Joker ordered them to forget the money they had stored away and just get out.

Once outside Joker took a lung full of fresh air, and coughed it all out. He turned to face the building, wondering what the hell happened that caused this in the first place. His first though was that one of his brain dead lackeys had dropped a lit cigarette, but that wouldn't constitute for the overwhelming smell of gasoline that hung in the air. As the last of his henchmen poured out onto the streets they turned to watch their home burn. Some of them were tending to the wounded.

But Joker's mind was on other things. He watched the flames grow out of control, when a flash from his dream came over him. He looked down at his feet. He scanned in every direction around him. He pushed his men aside calling out his baby's name, when he felt a streak of dread course through his blood. He looked back up to the building just as one of the windows exploded.

His face dropped. He stared at the insane fire reaching out the open windowsill, and panic shot into his heart. _"No."_ He whispered breathlessly. The second time that day he wished something wasn't true.

He didn't think about his actions, he just moved. Joker ran back towards the building but was interrupted from going any further by the ever grasping Schiff.

_"No Sir! You can't go back in there! I won't let you!"_ Thomas grabbed his boss' waist and held on as tightly as he could, for fear of losing him. But Joker wasn't going to have it. His baby was still in there, and _nothing_ was going to keep him from going back in. Nothing.

Joker reached down and twisted both of Schiff's wrists, making one crack. The schizophrenic cried out in pain and slipped to his knees. He looked up just as the Joker ran back inside. He screamed and tried to go after him but others held him back and said there was nothing they could do now and it would be suicidal to go back in there.

Joker could feel the flames lick at him as he brushed passed them on the staircase. He cried out Ridalin's name over and over again. He lifted his hands up over his face as he got to the main level. It was impossible to breathe up here, let alone see anything. His eyes watered and he felt himself break out in a sweat. The heat was bombarding him like a punch to the gut, gasping for air that wasn't there. Only he wasn't enjoying this. Nothing mattered but his baby. _Where was he?!_

_"Ridalin!! Where are you baby?! Riddy!"_ It was so hard to speak when there wasn't any air to refill on. Joker kept one hand in front of his face and moved the other to his throat, trying to loosen his tie and undo a few buttons. The flames grew hungry around him, roaring closer and closer until he thought he might lose it.

Then he heard it. That chitter that belonged to no one else but his baby. His face lit up with excitement at the ever welcome sound. _Riddy?! Come on baby, cry again for me!"_ There it was again. It was muffled, but definitely louder than the first one. He was getting closer, but he just didn't know where it was coming from. He could see anything and had to feel for the wall in order to keep going. It was so frustrating!

The kitten cried again, then again. Finally Joker was able to pinpoint its location...but, why it was coming from there he didn't know why. He placed both hands on the door. "Ridalin? Can you hear me? I'm here! Don't worry, momma's here!" Joker reached for the doorknob and hissed back in pain. It was white hot, and Joker cursed at himself for taking his gloves off. But he wasn't done yet. The cries coming from the other side of the door were tearing his soul apart.

"Riddy! Move _away_ from the door, you understand me?! Move away from the door, _I'm kicking it in_!" Joker took a step back and planted his foot squarely by the lock. The door busted open and a blanket of thick black smoke rushed its way out of the room. Joker waved it away and saw his baby curled up in a ball at the other end of the closet, terrified. It brightened up when it saw its master's face, and when Joker clapped his hands Ridalin ran at him and jumped into his arms. The kitten wrapped its monkey arms around Joker's throat and dug its nails in. Joker held his baby tightly against his body and kissed its face.

He began to make his way back to the staircase blindly. The air was worse than ever and the lack of oxygen plus the extreme heat nearly made him pass out a couple of times. His coughing was worse, but he didn't care. He had his baby, and that's all that mattered.

He made his way back to the staircase, but was forced to move back as a giant firewall engulfed that whole area. He hugged Ridalin tighter to his body as his panic started picking back up again. He felt light headed and had to close his eyes just for a moment to try and clear his mind for alternatives.

Then he remembered the busted window.

Joker looked hopefully to it as their only escape. But, as the fates have a cruel way of giving and taking things away, so was the same for this. For just when he took no more than two steps towards it, he heard the most ominous sounds right above his head.

Joker looked up and saw the ceiling was caving in. As all hope sank, as his legs refused to budge, he took one last ditched effort for his baby's survival and pulled it away from himself as it cried out in protest. Ridalin tried desperately to cling back onto him, but it's master moved first. Joker threw Ridalin safely towards the open window just as the ceiling collapsed on top of him.

Joker was slowly coming back to the waking world when he felt a sharp pain in his hand. When he gathered enough strength, he opened his eyes to see Ridalin biting on his fingers to wake him up. He was lying flat on the floor and when he tried to get up he found he could not move. He couldn't feel his legs at all, and from the amount of pain that was screaming from his upper back and nothing from below, he was pretty sure he broke it. The fallen debris had pinned him so thoroughly to the ground he could barely wiggle. When he tried to move his left arm he groaned in agony. He couldn't see it, but from the smell of blood that was radiating off of himself he pieced together that his arm was impaled on something.

At the moan Ridalin perked its head up and moved close to his face, chittering. Instead of getting out and escaping through the window like its master planned, the kitten came back in and tried everything it could to wake him up.

_"No...you stupid cat..."_ Joker tried to push his baby away, to aim it back towards the window, but he was too weak and exhausted to do more than nudge it. _"You have to get out...Go on...baby.."_

The kitten fought against every desperate attempt to get rid of it. It knew from experience that its master had lost too much blood and wasn't going to make it if he couldn't get out now. But the human was too weak, and the kitten wasn't any better.

More debris kept falling on top of him, with some of them getting dangerously close to his baby. He could see his kitten could barely stay awake, and was only doing so for him. He made a sound that was in between a laugh and a cry. He didn't know which he meant to do, because he felt like both.

Laugh because he got the joke. He goes in to save his baby,--a good deed no less--only to have failed miserably and now they will both perish. Because it loves him, and refuses to leave him for safety. He felt the same way when he went back in to get his baby in the first place. And the only hero in this city who could change the outcome to this is sick with some stupid _flu_. And he finally learned his secret identity, and can never play with him about that again. It was all terribly funny.

Cry, because he didn't want it to end like this. Not with him dying in a fire in which he didn't cause and didn't know how it got there. Not with the one damn thing he cares more than himself for is dying _because_ it loves him. Not with never being able to tell the other damn thing he loves more than himself where he is and how he really feels. Especially now with learning so much more about him....it was all terribly unfair.

He feels himself slipping again, his vision blurring. Sweat and blood pouring down him in waves, exiting his body freely.

This is it. The final curtain.

Oh, how he wishes it could've been different, but, oh well.

_"Rid...I..l-lo..." I love you, Ridalin. I'm sorry._

I love you Batsy. Don't you dare forget me.

Back into the dark void he silently slips off to.

Ridalin's heart ached. Its master had stopped moving. The kitten went back to chewing on the fingers to wake him back up, but nothing happens this time.

He just lays there, still.

Ridalin cries out to him softly. Its so tired.

Its master sleeps, then it will sleep. Wherever he goes, the baby follows. It can't live without him.

On shaky limbs it crouches low, moving closer to the bigger body. It weasels its way under the debris and nudges its head under the arm. The Clown's baby manages to worm its way completely under its master's limp arm and cuddle in close to the chest. Ridalin curls its body toward the other and buries its head into the other.

Time to sleep.

The fire rages on, its fury created for revenge. The flames dance and rip apart the building, roaring higher at its almighty triumph.

Wood falling into loud clumps on top of each other. Electric devices spark. Plastic melts into other materials and transforms into a horrific blob.

Its power knows no bounds. A thunderous clap emanates from it like a evil laugh. A laugh that knows it has won.

Its two hostages it will never give up to anyone, and it dares the soul brave enough to fight it for them.

Will anyone come?

No answer.


End file.
